Couple 112
by c1araoswa1d
Summary: Tumblr Whouffle Prompt: Can you write a fic where Eleven calls Clara "his girl" and she blushes and its really fluffy.


Clara doesn't know if he can dance and, watching the way he's bending his knees – flexing to ensure the best mobility possible, he claims – and cracking his knuckles, she doesn't trust his assertion that he can. She simply stands beside him in a red dress that hugs at her torso and falls loosely around her legs and leaves her arms bare and covered in goose bumps. And she hopes he knows what he's doing because they're about to enter a dance floor. A dance floor in a dance competition that sounds more like a dance to the death.

Not quite the tango she'd hoped for when she asked him if they could see a ball or wear a gown. He meets her stare and he bends slightly, offering a goofy grin as he ponders, "I wonder which couple will be eliminated first."

With a shrug, she looks over the others, standing around the long rectangle of hardwood. "Dunno, suppose us, seein' as we have no actual dance experience together."

"Oh," he frowned, then turned, "Did I forget to mention – this isn't actually a 'couples' dance off."

"How do you mean, everyone's partnered up. Fairly sure that's the actual definition of coupling."

He winced. "Well, technically, everyone's in it for themselves. Technically," he laughed, "Someone could decide to switch partners in the middle of the dance – though it rarely happens, since most people who enter train for months, even years, before deciding to participate."

Clara turned, hearing a light music starting up as a man moved onto the stage to start announcing the competition, and she hissed, "Something you might have taken the time to mention before we signed ourselves up."

His laugh was hoarse as he straightened to reply, "You said you wanted to dance; thought this might be a bit of fun."

"Not if someone whisks me away," she groaned, turning back to the main stage.

The Doctor grasped Clara's hand tightly and when she smirked up at him, he nodded, "Just keep holding hands."

"Never let go," she added.

He pointed, "That's the trick."

Clara laughed, "Isn't it always."

The music boomed through the speakers and the dancers carefully positioned themselves on the dance floor around them as they flowed with the crowd. Clara smiled up at the arrogant smirk on the Doctor's lips as he swung her around and planted his left hand at her hip, raising her right in his as he began to lead. For a moment she considered throwing him off, pulling him in a different direction just to see if he would relinquish control, but then she took in the look of sheer joy on his face.

Clara let him lead and she giggled as they worked their way over the dance floor, turning and winding along with the other dancers in an oddly old-fashioned ballroom dance happening in a futuristic floating ship in the stars. She laughed when he twirled her and she fell into him when he stopped. She could feel the crowd thinning though as the second song commenced. Something quicker, something that put distance between them as they tried to mimic the moves of the couples around them and when he let go to give an odd wiggle of his hand in the air, just as the man beside them had, Clara felt herself stripped away from him.

She was turned quickly and roughly into the chest of a slender man with waxy hair and pungent breath who smiled and growled, "Now this is a lady."

"Oi," the Doctor shouted, "That's, no, that's – you can't!" He pushed past a couple who swung between them as Clara turned her head in his direction.

"No, you dance with me now!" He argued.

"Think not!" Clara cried, prying her right hand free of his and feeling the Doctor's immediately clasp onto it, tugging her in his direction and glaring at the other man.

"Bugger off," the Doctor warned, "This is _my_ girl."

Recoiling, the man went in search of another dance partner and Clara could see officials arguing that if he had no partner, he would have to resign and just as she laughed, the Doctor's hand slid around her waist and clung to her back, pressing her into him. She turned slowly, eyes blinking into the purple of the tuxedo he'd changed into and then she raised her eyes to look at him, to watch him as he narrowed his eyes at the men around them.

"_Your_ girl?" Clara managed.

His demeanor shifted. Eyes widening, he flustered and told her, "No, no, Clara, I didn't mean it in that sense – not in a possessive _you're belonging to me_ sense, it's just…"

"I'm a bit your girl right now though, aren't I?" She teased, letting her head fall back slightly to grin up at him as he slowly stopped panicking and merely looked down at her with the tiniest of nods. "Do promise you won't let go again."

He laughed nervously and assured, "Promise, Clara. Never letting go."

They continued to dance together, but slowly, eventually against the rhythm of the music and they were disqualified and sent to get a drink and a bite to eat to wait for the winners. Clara sighed as they moved through the space around the dance floor, her hand held tightly within the Doctor's and she nodded her head towards the exit, smiling when he gave her a curious look.

"I'd still like to dance, Doctor."

"But we've lost already," he reminded.

"Maybe," Clara continued playfully, "Aboard the Tardis. I'll bet you've got a ball room hidden away in all of that space of yours."

The Doctor leaned back slightly, taking in the way she was twisting her hips, sending her long skirt twirling, and he laughed, "Clara, are you saying you'd like to continue dancing with me."

Nodding, she asked, "Still your girl, aren't I, Doctor?"

He smiled calmly and gave her hand a squeeze. Stepping into her, he raised his other hand to sweep the hair off her shoulder and he sighed as he watched her smiling up at him. _The most beautiful smile in the universe_, he would never tell her. With a gentle nod, he whispered, "Yeah."


End file.
